Liber Abnoctis
by OnyxWraith
Summary: after sam's mother and grandmother are killed in a car crash her father falls into depression and decides to give sam the manson birthright. Necromancy
1. The Begining

_**Liber Abnoctis**_

summery:

After Sam's mother and grandmother die in a car crash her father falls into a deep depression. He had promised her mother that he would never use his art again, yet he decides to grant his daughter her birthright as a Manson. The gift of Necromancy.

A/N: hey first try at this kind of story so please give as much input as you can.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

It had been three weeks since the funeral and Jeremy Manson still had not left the study. He sat as he had not since meeting his late

wife,contemplating the mysteries of life, death, and the immutable nature of the soul. He had promised Pamela that he would forsake his

art for her, cast aside a piece of his very soul, a part of who and what he was just so that he could be with her. As he sat there, deathlike

it came to him. His eyes blazed with new life that was just as quickly extinguished. A slow, hesitant smile ,the first in three weeks spread

across his face. Yes, he **_had_** promised Pamela that **_HE_** would forsake his art, and he had, but Sam, his dear Samantha, his little wraith

she could learn the art. She could claim the Manson Birthright. _Mortis,_ The High Necromancer, The Gate Keeper of The Deadside such

was her right. If……and only if…she chose that path. Would she choose to straddle the line between life and death? Would she embrace

her power or cast it aside? Would it consume her, would she master it or it master her?

A/N: tell me what you think where should this go? R&R


	2. Birthright

Disclaimer:I do not own danny phantom.

* * *

Sam walked home slowly. Even after three weeks that last argument was all she could 

think of…

**Flashback**

"Why do you always have to be such a freak? Why can't you act normal just for once?"

screamed Pamela, Sam's mother, at Sam's latest Goth fashion statement. A black leather

collar with silver studs and a bronze double sided pendant, on one side was a skull and on

the other side was a phoenix. "Just because I don't conform to your image of the perfect

daughter doesn't mean that I'm a freak." Sam stated in a monotone. Ida, Sam's grand

mother, decided it was time to play the part of the peacemaker and so said "Girls, why

must you always be fighting?" "If she didn't always act like a freak we wouldn't be

fighting" Pamela spat acidly. "This is the way I choose to be and if you can't accept that

then I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to get over it. I'm not going to change who I

am for any one but me." Sam said in the same monotone that characterized all of her

conversations with her mother. Even as Pamela prepared another biting statement Ida

calmly raised her hand, palm out, halting both Pamela and Sam's angry words. Despite,

or perhaps because of, her great age and frailty she radiated a quiet strength of will

sufficient to halt the very march of the sun through the sky. "A compromise." Was all she

said as with her other hand she revealed an earring. It was a large stone of the palest pink,

easily the size of your thumbnail, with silver fittings. But what truly caught the eye about

the teardrop shaped stone was the bizarre flaw at its core. The flaw looked like an

obsidian heart. Pamela simply turned and walked out. Ida sighed and said "here take this,

I'll talk to her." before following her out.

**End Flashback**

Four hours later they were both dead. They had been riding in the limo. It was raining,

and a drunk driver broadsided them, collapsing the passenger compartment. Everyone

except for the chauffer was DOA, dead on arrival. The chauffer died the next day. The

blood alcohol content of Jacobi Michal, the drunk driver, was triple the fatal dose. He had

died prior to impact. The Manson's funeral had been held two weeks ago, exactly one

week after death keeping in the Manson family custom. Jeremy, Sam's father, had not

left his study since the funeral. Sam reached up and stroked the earring that her

grandmother gave her, as she looked at her home. It was strange how both she and her

home had changed with the deaths of her mother and grandmother. She now wore her

hair in her grandmother's style, jaw length and pulled back into a ponytail. In tribute to

her mother she wore the earring in her left ear and a dark red belt with simple Celtic

designs stitched in gold thread. She'd taken to wearing long sleeves and jeans more often

than not. In contrast, while she had picked up some color the mansion had lost its

cheerful facade. After all it was only Pamela's frantic obsession with appearances that

had kept the mansion from darkening. As Sam studied the mansion a confused look

crossed her face. Three weeks was far too short of a time for the mansion to fall into the

state it was in now. The paint was peeling in places, some of the windows were cracked,

and an all-pervading air of depression hung over the grounds of the manor. Sam entered

her home the same way she always had, quickly and quietly, though she now did so for

different reasons. Whereas before Sam had done so to avoid her mother, she now did so

to avoid all contact. As was normal she was caught within seconds of entering. The maid

had taken up Pamela's ambush point. "Miss Manson, your father wishes to speak with

you. He's in his study," was all the maid said before hurrying away. For a few moments

Sam just stood there in surprise, no one not even her mother went in Jeremy's study. He

hadn't even left the study. Sam broke into a run as she hurried towards the study.

**DPDPDPDPDPDPDP**

Jeremy sat in the darkness of the study waiting. A smile briefly flashed across his face as

he recalled the shocked face of the maid when she saw him in the hall that morning. He

sighed and called out, "Enter," when he heard Sam knock. The door creaked softly as she

opened it. Sam's eye quickly took in the ordered chaos of the room then locked on the

side table by the chair Jeremy sat in. More specifically what sat on the table; a small

wooden bowl, and a carefully folded towel with a surgical scalpel resting on it. "Dad,"

she asked in a worried tone. "There are things about this family that you were never told

little wraith, things your mother didn't want you to know," he responded in a tired voice,

"Do you wish to learn this families secrets?" "Why," Sam hesitated her eyes still on the

scalpel, "Why didn't Mom want me to know?" Jeremy held his right hand up, a key

clutched loosely in his fingers, "There is an abandoned mansion on the other side of

town, locked within is the answer and this is the key. Take it; it and the mansion are

yours." Sam's worry grew as she took the key from her father. "You going to be ok Dad,"

she asked the full extent of her concern evident in her voice? "You're worried about

suicide. Don't be, my will to survive is to strong for me to even attempt… Besides,

there's still a reason for me to live." Jeremy said with a dark grin. Sam suddenly wrapped

her father in a hug, pressing her face into his shirt. He returned her embrace, rubbing her

back and whispering, "I love you to my little wraith." After a few minutes Sam pulled

away and left Jeremy alone once more. Calmly, he spread the towel over his lap. Placing

the bowl in his lap and taking the scalpel in his hand he whispered into the darkness,

"Forgive me Pamela but she must be given The Choice." And then…he began to cut.

* * *

hey as always tell me what you think R&R 


	3. The Choice prt 1

A/N:hey sorry for the wait ive been a litte bit sick but im getting better. also i would like to thank all of my reviewers. as always R&R

* * *

CH: The Choice prt1

* * *

Despite the fact that she had to be at school in the morning Sam wasted no time in her rush to solve this puzzle. She paused only long

enough to grab a flashlight as she headed down to her moped. Less than five minutes after she had left the study she was on her way. It

was strange, Sam didn't know how she knew where the mansion was but it was as if its location was writ upon her soul. As the night

flashed by her thoughts turned to something her father had said, "there are things about this family that you were never told little wraith."

Little wraith was dads pet name for her when mom wasn't around, he had always been the darker of that pair. Fighting back a fresh

wave of tears at this thought she quickly turned back to what had caught her attention at first. He had mentioned family secrets, what

secrets? She knew her grandfather had invented the machine that twirled cellophane around toothpicks and she had always been told that

this was the source of the family fortune. But she had done the math, that income accounted for less than ten percent of the total Manson

accounts. Her grandfather would have to have already been a multi-billionaire. Both her mother and her grandmother had come from

middle class families and they had married young so that didn't explain the discrepancy. Despite the fact that the Mansons were

meticulous record keepers she couldn't determine where the other ninety percent of the accounts had come from. The only answer her

father had given her when she had asked him was that it was, "the spoils of a father and son's journey." A frown formed on her face as

she blew by Danny's house hardly even noticing this fact. Now that she thought about it that was the most Jeremy had ever said about his

father. Even Ida had never spoken of him. All Sam knew about him was that his name had been Leon Manson. But in the same way that

she knew were the mansion was she also knew that he had lived there, here. She had arrived. Before her loomed an ornate wrought iron

gate set in a massive black stone wall topped with iron spikes. As the gate creaked open her eyes were drawn up the drive which was

bordered on both sides by hedge mazes to the large, stone cross. The drive split and curved around the elevated base of the gothic

edifice, which sat in the middle of the drive directly in front of the house, and gracefully dipping out of sight. Rounding the base of the

cross she saw that the drive descended into a deeply shadowed recess beneath the mansion. Sam quickly climbed the stairs that flanked

this end of the drive. The front porch was covered in debris from eighteen years of neglect. After carefully picking her way over to the

main door she studied it, unable to determine if it was fashioned from cut black stone or solid black ash. Giving up she quickly fitted the

key into the door, hesitating almost imperceptibly, unlocked and opened it. Glad that she had remembered a flashlight she looked in,

flicking it on… and distantly felt her jaw drop. From the outside she knew the house was huge, five stories with three towers the tallest of

which looked like it topped out at eight stories all of it a Goths paradise, but she hadn't anticipated the shear scale of the entrance 'hall'

she now walked though. Looking up she saw a network of catwalks trailing through the air linking the balconies together. As she

approached the door at the other end of the entrance hall she studied the grand staircases which flanked it and led up to the balconies.

Causally she opened the door and found herself staring down a wide hallway which came to a 'T' about ten feet in. Slowly she walked

down the hallway. When she reached the 'T' she heard a dull thump and a sudden sharp creak. Spinning back to face the way she had

come from only to see that the hallway ended in a blank wall two feet from where she stood. "Oh, Shit"

* * *

Jeremy sat back after removing the section of his radius he had cut from his left arm. Thirty minutes passed as he watched the bone

regrew where he had removed it and the muscle and skin knit closed over it. After another few minutes of rest he picked up the three inch

cylinder of bone and began to carve.


	4. The Choice prt2

A/N: sorry for the wait real life and writers block intruded thankfully you can help with the second. I need a villan (all inerested parties may apply)

* * *

CH 3

The Choice (prt2)

Several hours later Sam found herself standing outside of the first door she had found. She had hiked for what seemed like miles along the twisted hallways, and every time she looked back the hallway had closed behind her. Quickly Sam checked the door and finding it locked pulled the key from her pocket pausing for the first time to look, to truly look, at the key.

It was a large, highly ornate, warded key. Fashioned of wrought iron and covered in bone designs, it was a true skeleton key. Fitting the key to the lock, Sam opened the door and stepped into the Heart. Looking around she found herself in a circular room with vaulted ceilings towering three stories above her. The room was easily twenty feet across. But despite the awe inspiring architecture what truly drew the attention was the disc of wood fifteen feet across set in the center of the room.

The intricately carved surface of the circle was divided into eight sections each depicting a phase of the moon. In the center was an octogram around a strange symbol and elaborate Celtic knot work adorned the rest of the circle. An old memory dredged itself up out o her past.

Ida had told her a tale about a magician who built an enchanted manor. The magician had places a circle of wood, identical to the one before her no, at its heart. The wood had been cut from the Child of Yaggdrasil, the world tree, by Merlin and used as the round table. But after the fall of Camelot it had come into the possession of one of the magicians ancestors. Something clicked in Sam's mind. The story fit. It was the only thing that explained how she knew what she knew, what she had seen. She stood at the heart of the magician's manor.

Sam paused for only a moment as she recalled the rest of the tale. Specifically the location of the stone room where, her grandmother said, "the magician kept his secret." That was where she was most likely to find her answers. It took her only a minute to find the deeply recessed staircase, carefully avoiding the wooden disc. She vaguely recalled her grandmother saying something about it acting as a passive defense, something about sudden paralysis.

At the top of the stairs Sam found what could only be the master chambers; the master bedroom, a kitchen, a small den, the master bath, and several closets the size of Danny's bedroom; all exactly like they were described in the story, right down to the spiral stair in the den. As Sam climbed the stairs a strong feeling of anticipation began to build in her. The study she found herself in was, at first glance, a near perfect replica of her father's, or perhaps her father's was the replica.

The books here were older and seemed to be written in some ancient script, the furniture had an antiquated feel and appearance, and of course the room itself was circular. But perhaps the most significant difference was the black-veined marble lectern that sat in front of the desk. Resting on the lectern was a closed book bound in black leather. Embossed in gold and silver the front cover bore the same design that was carved into the floor of the Heart. When Sam opened the book the feeling of anticipation surged almost staggering her before fading back to what it was before.

Wondering what the hell was going on with her emotions Sam looked down at the first page of the book and frowned. Beneath what she assumed was the title was a full coat of arms, in place of the helm was a skull crested by a raven atop a shield depicting a fanged skull with a black rose in it's jaws on a quartered field of black and green. Twin skeletons, one on each side, supported the shield with one hand and beckoned with the other while beneath it all twined a scroll bearing the Latin phrase "Memento Mori." Strangely this seemed almost familiar to her.

A glint of light finally snapped her attention away from the book. Resting next to the book was a large silver ring. Carefully Sam picked it up some how knowing it was a signet ring. It bore the symbol from the center of the octogram. The symbol was made up of a 'V' with two small slashes above it angled in opposite directions. The ring was curiously warm, as if it had been removed just a few moments ago. Sam slipped it onto her right middle finger oddly comforted by its warmth.

Fiddling with the ring, it was slightly big, Sam looked around. Seeing a door tucked between two bookcases she opened it finding a spiral staircase that wrapped itself around the inside of the tower. Behind the first door she came to was what could only be described as some sort of lab. The second door led out to a balcony that ringed the tower. As she opened the final door the feeling of anticipation which had still been building vanished. It didn't fade or fall, it was just…gone.

The room she now stood in was completely bare except for the covered pedestal in the center. In what seemed a dream state Sam approached the pillar and threw back the weighted cloth. She was suddenly hit by a wave of intense nausea. Staggering away from the dark green stone she had uncovered Sam vomited the entire contents of her stomach and collapsed. Just before the abyss claimed her she felt someone open her mouth and slip something hard and cold beneath her tongue, something like a coin.

* * *

Jeremy paused in his work when he felt the necrostone be exposed. Closing his eyes he sent up a quiet prayer "O' Grandfather Destiny let her find the proper path. O' Grandmother Death accept her offering and help her walk the twilit path. Forgive me Pamela." After a moment he turned back to his task.

* * *

Amity parks local half-ghost lay in his bed sleeping peacefully. Slowly he began to twitch, then to toss and turn as if a storm grew within his dream. As he lay there tossing and turning he muttered a single sleep muffled word "Sam."

* * *

R&R please 


	5. The Choice prt3

A/N: Im baaacck sorry about the long delay real life kind of intruded

thanx for all the reveiws and as always I Don't Own Danny Phantom.

* * *

Sam opened her eyes to find herself standing on a stone path before a gate wrought of bones. Hardly aware of her own actions she raised a pale arm, far paler than normal, towards the gate. With a deep grinding rasp the gate opened. As Sam strode forward through The Great Necropolis she slowly became aware of a soft dullness of her senses. Her thoughts to ware muddled by that same soft dullness, but they were clear enough that she knew some thing was off.

Her feet led her deeper and deeper, down and down into the labyrinth of the catacombs. Sam was walking down a long tunnel deep beneath The Great Necropolis when with a startling suddenness she was wandering through a hedge maze beneath an azure blue sky.

After wandering for a timeless eternity Sam stepped out into the heart of The Garden. She looked back over her shoulder when she heard a soft sound behind her. For some reason she wasn't even surprised to see the way blocked by a hedge that wasn't there a moment before.

Looking around the garden again Sam saw that she was no longer alone. Standing before a stand of four silver bells was a tall man dressed in the hooded robe of a monk. As Sam approached him she saw that the book he carried was chained to his arm, and even though his eyes were covered by a strip of cloth he looked her straight in the eye. Her stomach began to churn as she realized what was wrong with his eyes. The strip of cloth was drawn across the bleeding sockets that had once held his eyes.

"Greetings little one, I am Destiny and this is my garden. All of your life you have wandered its paths of endless possibility. Always before there has been a way back, a path that could lead you back to what was. But now you have come to a fork in your path. Your choices are four, one ends in oblivion, two in Death's embrace, the last leads back to the lands of the living unchanged." with that he stood aside and pointed to the hammer that sat beneath the bells. "Take up the hammer and choose your path."

Sam approached the stand. Though her mouth never opened her voice echoed about the garden, "my father was here." A smile crossed the face of Destiny as he responded, "no one is ever told the story of another."

Sam took the small hammer from beneath the bells and with a single sharp tap struck the second from the right. Though the bell was small, less than two inches in diameter, it tolled out a tone so deep it was more felt than heard.

"No one is ever told what will be, nor what could have been, only what is" as destiny said this he gestured to the hedge wall where a opening had appeared. "Good luck Little Wraith," with that Destiny faded from sight.

After one last look at the Garden of Destiny Sam stepped through the gap in the hedges to find herself standing on the outskirts of the Sunless Lands. A tall lithe figure strode towards her across the black-grey sand of the ruined marsh. All to soon the figure stood before Sam. The woman wore black boots and jeans with a black halter top and silver Ankh pendant completing the outfit. With her dark clothing and midnight black hair emphasizing her ghostly pale skin she seemed the essence of Goth.

"Who are you," again Sam's voice echoed about them without her even opening her mouth. "I am the Lady Death," the woman responded as she calmly reached up and opened Sam's mouth. "Long ago people placed coins beneath the tongues of the dead so that they could pay for passage to into the afterlife," with nimble fingers Death plucked a single bronze coin from beneath Sam's tongue. Death flipped the coin into the air with a flourish.

Snatching it from the air she concealed it in her hand. "But sometimes death claimed them as her own," she opened her hand revealing a lead coin stamped with a skull. "And gave them a second life, she turned the coin over revealing that the other side was stamped with a phoenix. "As her Embodiment in the lands of the living," carefully Death placed the coin in Sam's hand, "as Necromancers."

Embracing Sam Death spoke "go forth now as my granddaughter, guard the gate to the lands of the dead." Death placed a kiss on her forehead and whispered, "Return now to the lands of the living." With a smile death pressed her lips against Sam's. There was a fluttering of great wings, then not but darkness.

Jeremy held up the cylinder of bone now covered in elaborate scrollwork. He ran his finger through the bowl of blood and bone chips that sat in his lap. Power poured from his fingers changing the blood and bone. He lifted a delicate seeming black chain from the bowl.

"Ur" the rune echoed with power binding the chain to the bone charm.

"Ce'Nar" the charm twisted and slits opened in it forming a hollow cage of bone.

"Ne'Shal" shadows spun into being within the cage forming a web like mesh.

"Kral" a glowing fog began to seep forth from the shadow mesh. In the sickly green glow Jeremy looked around realizing for the first time that he had been working in absolute darkness for hours. Looking out the window he saw the sky beginning to lighten he smiled as he settled back to watch the sun rise.

"Ce'Nar" the censer of bone twisted once more, the slits closed and it was once more merely a charm.

Sam shot bolt upright in the bed. For a moment she panicked not knowing how she had gotten in the bed. The last thing she recalled was passing out in the tower of the mansion. She looked down at herself; instead of what she had been wearing she had on a black silk night suit. For some reason this did not cause her concern, a strange calm radiated through her. Glancing around, she saw that she was in the master bedroom of the mansion.

Retrieving her watch from the side table she felt a dull muted panic as she saw that she had less than thirty minutes to get across town to the school. She swiftly retrieved her clothing from the closet and changed, strangely they seemed to have been washed. As she dressed she wondered not how they had gotten there but how she had known they were there. As Sam darted from the room she reached up and touched the pendant on her collar, somehow she knew by touch that bronze had become lead.

All was quiet for a few moments after Sam left then a quiet ghostly chuckle echoed through the room. "At least this master is interesting." Whispered a voice as the room began to clean itself.

* * *

A/N: it might be a little while before my next update but i will have it up inside three months


	6. Changes prt1

Hey guys sorry it took so long my life got kind of crazy, my aunt died in a car wreck so my cousin is now living with us I got my ged and am now looking to either go to college or the coast guard, im leaning towards coast guard cause my stepdad is making it clear in a subtle way that he wants me out so anyways this chapter wont be as long as the others but expect the next to be much longer.

P.S. Thanks for the reveiws and being so patient.

* * *

CH4:Changes (prt1)

Sam skid to a halt on the upper walkway of the heart and stared down at the circle of wood. Not only had it transformed into a staircase that stretched from the sub levels to the floor she was on , it was covered in a network of lines glowing a strange blackish green. She knew, in the way she was beginning to think of as a kind of sixth sense, that the fastest way out was to follow the stairs down into the sub levels. Glancing at her watch she swore and with only a seconds hesitation she bolted down the central staircase taking the steps four at a time.

Slamming the doors open Sam found herself in a cavernous garage. Her jaw dropped when she saw the cars inside. Every last one of them was obviously if not custom built at least heavily customized. Looking at them Sam, who disliked cars on the basis of pollution, somehow knew that they ran on some kind of alternate fuel source. Though when she tried to call to mind what all she got was an image of swirling ectoplasm. With another glance at her watch and a few choice words she jumped into the nearest one, a glimmering black thing that looked like what you would get if you crossbreed a Ferrari with a Corvette and added just a hint of a tank.

The interior of the car was a immaculate black leather, it also lacked an ignition. In the place where a normal cars ignition would be was the Manson coat of arms. with a curse Sam brought her hands down on the steering wheel. There was a crackling pop and then greenish-black lightning erupted from the ring on her right hand, it twined about the steering wheel for a moment and then plunged into the Manson coat of arms. " What the hell," was Sam's only thought as she tore out of the garage, whipped around the cross, and punched it across town.

* * *

as was usual most of the jocks and preps were gathered around the parking lot trying to decide if they could aford to skip and if they did what they were going to do. All activity ceased as a huge black ... something tore in doing a good eighty plus. With a wild screech of tires it pulled a perfect one-eighty and slid neatly into a parking spot only a few steps from the door. For a moment it just sat there idling. The bell rang and Sam Manson bolted out of the car and into the school. the second she left it the engine died and all the doors gave an audable click signaling that it was locked.

There was a stunned scilence hanging in the air as the jocks and preps picked there jaws up of the ground and stumbled into class. Over half the school was late that day. The school also had it's highest attendence in it's entire history.

* * *

A/N: still looking for a villan 


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